


The Courting Dilemmas of a Spark and a Werewolf Prince

by green-leaf (greenleaf)



Series: A Wolf, A Spark, and A Courting [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Awkward Derek, Courting Rituals, Druid Stiles Stilinski, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Hale Family Feels, Insecure Stiles Stilinski, Kings & Queens, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Pack Feels, Romance, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Supernatural Creatures, Sweet Derek, Werewolf Courting, Werewolf Culture, Werewolf Mates, Werewolf Prince Derek, like seriously, stiles is confused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-18 23:59:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13692552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenleaf/pseuds/green-leaf
Summary: Talia smiled calmly. “I am well aware that you are not a werewolf, my darling, but I thought this would be the best reading material for you to use as reference. After all, how would you know how to act during a courting ritual if you do not study it?”“But I don’t... I’m not…” Stiles narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you setting me up with someone?”Talia rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t be obtuse, my darling. Why would I set you up with someone –”“Oh, well, that’s good, because–”“–when I have a son who is already perfectly enamored with you?”





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> No joke, but I’ve been working on this story since _August 2015_. Yes, THAT long. This always happens with me. I have so many good ideas for fics, but I either forget or I lose inspiration and it takes me years to get back to them. 
> 
> Anyway, I haven’t been feeling well in the past few days, but I dug this up in my files. I decided to resurrect this mainly because even though it’s been a long while, it made me feel so much better and I still believe that Sterek is forever. I finished two chapters for this, the second of which I will post in possibly two weeks, as soon as I finish editing it. I also have other fics and fandoms that I’m working on (hi Malec!) and, of course, there are real life stuff to handle. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this. Kudos and comments are always appreciated.

Stiles yawned widely, not caring at all at how undignified he looked as he shuffled down the hall towards the throne room.

His hair was unruly, his clothes a little disheveled, and he had a sneaking suspicion he still had ink on his cheek. He had stayed up all night looking through trade contracts for the King and Queen and had fallen asleep at his desk sometime in the early morning. He barely had time to bathe before he had to run from his humble room above the Spitfire Inn just to get to The Den on time.

He let out another jaw-cracking yawn as he shouldered his messenger bag higher up his shoulder.

If his Father was here, he’d probably hit Stiles on the head for acting so uncouth, especially someone of his position. But said Father wasn’t here, people were used to Stiles, and Stiles didn’t really give a damn and so acted however the hell he wanted.

“Fell asleep on your desk again?”

Stiles did not squeak in surprise. No, he did not. It was a byproduct of his yawning and not because these damn werewolves were too silent on their feet.

Then again, the eldest Prince Matthew and the Royal twins, Prince Cameron and Princess Cora, all stomped around like elephants, so maybe it was just Derek.

Stiles whirled around, meeting Derek’s amused gaze. The Royal Prince looked handsome in a long white shirt and a fitted waistcoat in red and black, the signature colors of the Royal Family. It was accented with gold buttons and a gold trim, and he paired them with black trousers and boots.

Stiles felt he made quite a sad picture in comparison, dressed in a dark blue tunic, worn brown trousers and even more worn boots. Not that he’d wear anything else, mind you. He preferred the comfort of common clothes to the cloaks those of his position usually had to wear. A cloak? Really?

“Good morning, Your Highness. I hope you had a… a… a…” Stiles yawned. Oh, dammit. “…a good night’s sleep.” He sighed, rubbing his eyes.

“Stop calling me Your Highness.” Derek rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t hide his amusement at Stiles’ half-sleepy state. He stepped towards him, breaching his personal space. Stiles had long since realized that aside from being a werewolf, Derek had a very different and very limited concept of personal space.

It wasn’t all that bad though. Standing so close, Stiles was given a closer look at what Derek was wearing. The red and black, not to mention the splashes of gold, did wonders for his eyes and his tan skin. He also realized that Derek looked just a tad indecent with the way two buttons at the top of his white shirt were unbuttoned, giving Stiles a peek of his chest hair. It was waking up various parts of his anatomy.

Derek’s nose twitched and Stiles almost panicked, before remembering the cover of his magic-induced Fae skin, which masked the smell of his arousal and other such personal emotions. He had a feeling he looked quite flustered though and that his heart was beating double time. If he noticed, Derek was nice enough not to say anything about it.

Derek reached up and gently held Stiles’ chin with one hand. He tilted it to the side and raised his other hand to poke Stiles’ cheek.

Stiles yawned in his face in response.

The corner of Derek’s lips ticked up in amusement. “You have ink on your cheek.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and started wiping the smudge on Stiles’ skin. “Stiles, you need to stop–”

“You stop,” Stiles muttered, squirming in Derek’s hands. “That’s going to get dirty.”

“It can be washed, something you should have done to your face,” Derek bit back.

Stiles just let him do what he wanted. The werewolf tended to hover over Stiles, not that the Spark was complaining. He vaguely noticed the staff walking around them, most ignoring them but a few others staring. Derek’s main guard and right-hand wolf, Vernon Boyd, looked none too amused as he watched them from the corner.  Then again, that man never seemed amused by anything.

Stiles was used to people staring at him, talking about him, and overall being subjected to much scrutiny by others. It was par for the course when one had a Royal position in the Den, and also happened to be very friendly with the members of the Royal Family.

Derek rubbed Stiles’ cheek gently, ignoring Stiles’ exaggerated winces and pouts. “As I was saying, you need to stop staying up so late. This is the third night in a row.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. On impulse, he titled his chin to the side and up to let Derek get his cheek. At the back of his mind, he noted the way Derek’s eyes flashed gold for a second and remembered how showing one’s neck affected werewolves.

Stiles wasn’t bothered. This was Derek anyway.

(Not that he’d ever bare his throat to, say, Laura or Matt or Cora. Derek was different.)

“I finished studying the contracts for that new trade route that Her Majesty asked me to read through,” Stiles said when Derek was done, tucking the handkerchief away. “I needed to finish reading through them before the Council meeting later.”

Derek sighed, murmuring something like  _‘can be delayed’_  under his breath. Other than that, he kept quiet.

This was an argument the both of them had had many times before. Derek was insistent that his mother would easily put things on hold if Stiles really needed more time, but Stiles didn’t want people saying  _even more_ unsavory things about him. They gossiped enough already.

“Come on. I’m famished. I haven’t had breakfast yet,” Stiles said, straightening out his shirt as best as he could. “It’s all probably leftovers by now, but I hope the kitchen staff still has beans and bacon. Maybe there would even be some pumpkin cinnamon rolls left from yesterday.”

He grabbed Derek’s hand and started dragging him to the kitchen, down the opposite direction where Stiles was headed to in the first place.

He ignored Boyd pointedly glaring at him. Boyd disliked anyone who touched Derek, save for the Royal Family. It used to tick Stiles off, until he realized that it was the point of Boyd’s job anyway.

As for Stiles’ own job, he figured his apprentices could wait for a few minutes while he grabbed something to eat. If there were some left, he’d grab them a few scones too.

Stiles was so busy ranting at Derek about all the things he wanted to eat that he didn’t notice the way Derek gently laced their fingers together.

 

 

 

 

Mieczyslaw 'Stiles' Stilinski was the only child of Janusz ‘John’ Stilinski and the late Lady Claudia Scheim of Witcinder. John was currently the Sheriff of Beacon Hills, one of the Hales’ most important territories, and Lord Protector of the South Border. Claudia – may she rest in peace – was the former Ambassadress for the five towns that made up the said South Border.

That was a pretty tall order to follow for Stiles, more so after they found out that he took after his mother and his late paternal grandmother, Edyta Poafsaf-Stilinski, and inherited their Spark.

Oddly enough, the Spark skipped John, probably because because his late paternal grandfather Kazmer Stilinski was pure Human. Human he might have been, but Kazmer had served as a military general and adviser for two of the previous Alpha Kings. He was nothing to scoff at.

Compared to other supernatural races, there were very few Sparks as the gene was selectively hereditary and kind of a wild card. Also, unlike their many magically-inclined brethren, Sparks were the most adaptable, able to harness the energy of everything around them in order to power their own magic.  That made them compatible with near enough any magical or supernatural being there was and allowed them to learn a vast array of magic, spells, hexes, runes and more.

Case in point: Stiles’ grandmother, Edyta, was inclined to the ways of the Fae, while one of Stiles’ uncles became an alchemist. One of Claudia’s cousins trained to become an Elemental, while an aunt, horrifyingly enough, succumbed to black necromancy.

After a lot of thought, Stiles decided follow in Claudia’s footsteps and become a Druid.

At first, Stiles had been content to work towards taking up his parents’ mantle as the Ambassador for and Guardian of the South Border. His training had been going well, being mentored by the same individuals that had looked after his late Mother. He had thought his life was set.

… But then the Hales happened.

Or rather, Derek happened in his life.

 

 

 

 

Stiles was twenty years old and completing his final year of Druid studies at the Academy when he met Their Royal Highnesses Laura and Derek Hale, the third and fourth children of the Royal Family. The two had been visiting the Academy at the time and caught Stiles at the Private Library doing research, unaware that he was a Druid mentee. They asked him to leave and, never one to back off, Stiles mouthed off at them, Royalty be damned. Besides, he was studying.

(Derek was actually being a massive douche at the time with all his accusations, and then had the gall to apologize not-so-gracefully after the mess was sorted out.)

To make matters more complicated, the Royals had duties at the Academy. What followed was six months of constantly arguing with Derek – which was surprisingly frequent considering the fact that they were under different mentors and shouldn’t even see each other all that often – Laura being amused at their expense, and both Hales oddly hovering over Stiles’ shoulders as he juggled his highly demanding Druid training and academics.

Everything became much clearer later on when it turned out that Stiles had been recommended for the highest position a Druid could attain, and that Derek and Laura had actually been evaluating him all those months.

At the age of twenty-one, Stiles became a candidate to be a Royal Emissary.

More training followed, examinations taken, books read, papers written, research done, people to meet and impress, particularly more of the Royal Family… just  _more_.

It was exhausting, but Stiles had never been happier, because with it all came the chance to learn more about his craft and further his career, not to mention get to know Derek, meet the rest of his siblings, meet the King and Queen, have more family than just his Dad, Scott, and Melissa…

…start to have feelings for Derek along the way.

Now here he was, twenty-seven years old, and things have changed for the better –the youngest and latest inductee in the Royal Council of Emissaries, a Royal Archivist…

…and even more hopelessly in love with Derek.

Stiles just wasn’t quite sure if that last one was a good thing or a bad thing.

 

 

 

 

Stiles tapped his knuckles against the desk distractedly as he spoke to the four apprentices in front of him.

“Prince Matthew insists on resuming work as quickly as possible after that incident at the mines yesterday, so we need to get the reports from all of the foremen before we order any more equipment from our suppliers. We also need to check on the progress of the caravan of Hunters coming in from the Blue Woods, especially since they’re requesting Wolf escorts when they reach our borders…”

Stiles may be a Royal Emissary and the youngest of them, but some might suggest that he was busier than even the likes of Senior Emissaries Lord Alan Deaton and Lady Cassandra Perry. Because aside from his continuous magic training, part of Stiles’ duties included handling paperwork, supervising the new apprentices at the Den, drafting and reviewing contracts, handling complaints, scheduling appointments, and more.

“Also, I need all the paperwork ready regarding the arrival of the Massi Wolf Pack for my meeting tomorrow with His Highness, Prince Matthew. As for everything else, just make sure everything’s signed and settled before the Wolf Moon comes in two weeks so that I can let you all go with two days off.”

Stiles smiled at his apprentices’ excited faces. He wasn’t heartless enough to keep them from celebrating one of their most beloved holidays, no matter how busy they were. He couldn’t say the same about himself and his duties, but at least some people were happy.

There was a knock on the door and Stiles grinned when a familiar face popped in.

“Ahh, the dark-haired devil himself approaches.”

Matthew rolled his eyes at him, a rather common reaction of the Hales to Stiles’ endless wit and charm. Stiles should be offended.

“Your Highness,” he greeted, far more casually than propriety dictated.

The apprentices were all atwitter, gasping and standing up before immediately bowing to the Crown Prince himself.

Even-tempered and intelligent, Matthew Hale was the eldest of the Hale children and was Heir Apparent of their humble nation. He had dark blue eyes and long dark hair usually tied back in a small ponytail. He was the spitting image of his Father, His Majesty Desmond Hale, save for the fact that Matthew preferred a clean shaven face. He was also stockier than the rest of the Hale males, with broad shoulders, a big chest, wide hips, and arms of steel, all topped off with a kind face and an always present smile.

Matt addressed the room at large and greeted them all merrily. “Good afternoon, everyone.”

Being so close to the Royal Family, it was always a little weird to greet any of them so formally; like right now as Stiles had dinner with them just last week and had gotten spectacularly drunk with Mattie and the other Hale children.

“Stiles!”

A little girl zipped inside the room and clamped onto Stiles’ legs.

“CC!” Stiles smiled down at the four year old. “Hi, pretty lady!”

He hauled her up against his hip and did a mock growl when CC flashed her baby gold Beta eyes at him. She had a cute button nose and a head of short, unruly dark curls that she inherited from her mother, Goddess bless her soul.

“Stiles! Me and Daddy wanted to come see you!” she shouted.

“That’s great.” Stiles bounced her a little. He turned to his apprentices. “You’re all dismissed. Just don’t forget your assignments, everyone.”

They immediately exited the room, leaving just the Hales and Stiles.

“Hello, baby girl.” Stiles kissed CC on the nose, making her giggle. “It’s good to see you. You know I love having you guys drop by, though I’d rather spend time with my favorite girl than see Mattie’s ugly face.”

“Shut up,” Matt said, childish still despite turning forty a few months back.

“Stiles! Stiles! We came from Popo’s office,” CC said. “And we was told that you is–”

“CC.”

Stiles watched in confusion as CC flashed her golden eyes at her father and then pouted, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Is something wrong? Something we need to talk about?” Stiles asked, bouncing CC on his hip to make her smile. She didn’t.

“Nothing. We just had a family meeting earlier and received some interesting news,” Matt said. He had on his King’s Smile, that calm smile that gave nothing away. “By the way, you’re having lunch with Derek today, right?”

Stiles nodded. He rubbed his face, feeling somewhat self-conscious and bashful. He and Derek had a standing weekly lunch and Stiles wouldn’t deny, to himself at least, that he looked forward to spending quality time with Derek.

CC patted his cheek. “Stiles. You're gonna be the bestest in the woooorld.” She then giggled and jumped off, wolf reflexes helping her land on her feet without a wobble before she was running out the door.

“Um… thanks?” He turned to Matt. “The bestest what?”

Matt was obviously biting back a smile as he shrugged. “I don't know. I have a weird kid.”

 

 

 

 

“Your work is boring,” Cora said, placing the book back on the shelf. She sat back down with a sigh.

“Whatever you say, Cora,” Stiles said, a bit too preoccupied with sorting books to bother.

He had some free time today so he decided to concentrate on some of his archiving duties. All sorts of books, scrolls, blueprints, journals, and other literature written by and on all types of supernatural creatures arrived at the Den almost daily. Part of Stiles’ job was to make sure that the more useful materials were either stored and catalogued or sent to the King and Queen.

“Laura, can you get that for me?” Stiles asked, pointing to a heavy box of books. She was far stronger than he was anyway. “And Cam, make sure to put those back in alphabetical order.”

Laura helpfully carried the box over to the table, while Cameron sighed but nodded.

Stiles was supposed to be working alone right now, but the Royal siblings suddenly popped up, claiming they had some free time on their hands and decided to pester him instead. If Stiles had to guess, they were most likely playing hooky from their duties, even Laura who, even at her mid-thirties, loved going along with the twenty-five year old twins.

Laura was the most boisterous of the Hale bunch and was always in charge, sometimes even over the eldests, Matt and Valerie. However, there was a reason she was named Lord Commander of the Royal Guards, because she was also smart, calm under pressure, and good at combat. Stiles had seen her take down werewolves twice her size.

Cora and her ten-minute younger twin, Cameron, were the most mischievous, known for their various misadventures, striking good looks, and love for the arts. Cora was the hot-tempered twin, who was graceful and light on her feet. Cam had the calmer demeanor, but sharper tongue, the tallest of the family and also a musician.

For all these three were the naughtier and more rambunctious siblings, Stiles fiercely adored them. He was always happy hanging out with them, except when they were keeping him from doing his job.

“Hey, Stiles, I have a question,” Cora suddenly asked, leaning back on her seat. “When was your last relationship?”

There was a  _‘thud’_  under the table. Stiles looked at them, confused, sure that somebody kicked someone under the table. None of the siblings reacted outwardly though.

“…why do you ask?”

Cora shrugged. “Just curious. You’re only twenty-seven and you’re attractive enough.”

“And the last guy we heard you being involved with is that guy… that witch,” Cameron added. “That was like two… three years back. You haven’t been with anyone since?”

There was another loud  _‘thud’_ under the table. By process of elimination, it was probably Laura, though nobody reacted. Werewolves apparently have shins of steel.

Stiles wasn’t even surprised. They had asked him far more embarrassing questions before.

“It was three years ago. And no, I haven’t been involved with anybody.”

“Why?” the trio asked.

Actually Stiles would love to be in a relationship, if he was actually going to be with the one person he wanted to be with.

“I’ve been too busy, I guess. Even for Ryan,” he answered truthfully. “He worked and lived all the way near the East Border, while I worked here at the Den. In hindsight, it never would have worked out in the end.”

Stiles knew better than to lie to werewolves. His Fae skin hid any chemosignals, but not the skips and blips of his heartbeat. Unlike the other Emissaries, he wasn’t a fan of hiding too much of himself on a daily basis, only when the situation called for it.

“You looking for someone?” Cameron asked bluntly.

There was a third  _‘thud’_  and Stiles didn’t even bother acknowledging that as he shook his head. He was certainly not looking.

“You never thought of settling down?” Laura asked, leaning forward.

Stiles looked down at the book he was reading – it was a fascinating book, one about tree nymphs, and he was sure CC would like to hear about them – and tried to hide his warm face. He couldn’t do anything about his heartbeat but, hey, the other Hales were kind enough never to comment on his huge crush on Derek. They’d probably ignore this too.

“I have, but only if it was with the right person.” He shrugged. “I’m an only child, but I’ve always wanted a big family like yours. I guess I have it anyway, my Dad, Scott, Melissa, and you Hales.”

Cora and Cameron preened at that, chests practically puffing out.

Laura smiled warmly at him. “You think of us as family?”

“Of course I do,” Stiles said. “You and Derek practically dragged me over here after I graduated from the Academy and everything changed, for the better.”

“Sounds good to me,” Cameron said. “I’m done here.”

Cora nodded. “I wonder why we even had doubts.”

There was the scraping of chairs as the twins made to stand. Stiles barely had time to wonder what they meant when they both pounced on him, nuzzling him and scenting him before they ran out the door.

“…o …k …?” He turned to Laura.

Laura got out of her chair calmer than the twins did. She gave him a peck on the cheek and exited the room without a word.

 

 

 

 

Stiles was already suspicious of the Hales’ odd behavior, but it became all the more apparent when he found himself with the last of the Hale siblings, Nathan and Valerie. Nathan was the youngest of the Hales at twenty-two, while Valerie was the second oldest after Matt and she had a husband named Thomas.

Second to spending time with Derek, Stiles liked hanging out with Val and Nate. Laura and the twins all had big, vivacious personalities, while Mattie was calm and lovely and was the Crown Prince. Val and Nate were a lot like Derek, the calm and intense types; Val, with her pixie cut hair and smiling eyes, and Nate, the mini-Talia, all soft wavy hair and dimpled cheeks.

Right now, the three of them were in the forest surrounding the Den and the two were accompanying Stiles on a little stroll. Magical beings found a connection with nature. Stiles and his Spark were no different.

“They smell so good,” Nate said, helping Stiles pick out some of the wild flowers to take back home.

“And it’s such a beautiful day,” Val said softly, heedless of the grass stains on her dress as she lied down. “It was a good decision to come out here.”

Stiles hummed happily. A thrum of electricity was surging through his veins and he could feel his Spark sizzle, could hear the whisper of magic all around him. The forest had always been home and right here, deep in Hale territory at the heart of the forest, Stiles was safe. He knew that the Hales felt the same, bounded as they were to their land.

Stiles was happy at the flowers they found so far. He had some nice ones for his apprentices and some for each member of the Hale family, except…

“There we go. Perfect,” Stiles murmured, beaming as picked up a blue and white lily. At Nate’s confused gaze, he added, “For Derek.”

“Der doesn’t have a favorite flower,” Nate pointed out.

“True, but he still likes pretty flowers, especially happy flowers,” Stiles replied, stroking the petals. He gave it a little jolt with his Spark and watched its petals twitch happily. He could replant it later in the plant box he convinced Derek to build on his balcony months ago.

Nate looked at him, thoughtful and contemplative. “You really like my brother, don’t you?”

“Which brother?” Stiles asked.

Ahh, there was that look. The Hales all had the same trademark deadpan look.

Val laughed softly at them.

“Of course I like Derek,” Stiles said. He was pretty sure he was blushing, but he turned away to hide his face in the flowers. “He’s one of my best friends.”

“More of a best friend than Scott?” Nate’s tone of voice was curious not comparing.

“No one’s more than the other,” Stiles said. “Scott and I have known each other since we were children. Derek is…” He waved a hand, ignoring his flushed face. “Despite the arguments, Derek and I genuinely get along.”

“That is true,” Val said softly. “And I’ve never seen my brother get along that well and argue that much with anyone.”

“Ever.” Nate agreed.

“I pestered him until he gave in to my charms, I guess.” Stiles chuckled. “What can I say? I’m special.”

Nate snickered, while Valerie’s voice was soft, but Stiles still heard her murmur.

“Yes, you are.”

 

 

 

 

Things finally started making sense during Stiles’ lovely private brunch with Talia at her study. They had it once every two weeks. At first it started off as mentoring and consultation sessions, but eventually it became a time for the both of them to unwind and talk about any topic that struck their fancy.

Talia Hale was tall and beautiful, with long dark hair and the deep always-red Alpha eyes characteristic of the Queen. She was more than just Stiles’s Queen and Alpha and mentor. She was also a mother figure to him, cared about him, and listened to what he had to say. She could be strict and demanding, sometimes even more than her husband, but it was Talia’s belief in him that made Stiles take the last step into becoming a Royal Emissary. She never expected and accepted anything but the best from him.

That morning, Stiles wasn’t surprised when Talia handed him a thick, leather-bound book. One thing they both realized about one another was that they shared a lot of intellectual interests.

“What’s this?” Stiles asked, putting down his cup of tea. Talia was the one who introduced him to the joys of tea and meditation. He loved her for it. Those had since become his most employed calming methods.

Once he read the title, he was glad he had stopped drinking and had put down his cup. He let out a squeak.

Talia stirred her tea calmly. “The original tome remains at our private vault. That one is Desmond’s, which he is giving to you as a gift.”

“And it’s on…” Stiles flushed. He was usually more shameless, but this was just awkward. He cleared his throat. “And is there a reason you’re giving me a book on… er, werewolf courting and m-mating traditions?” He paused, face scrunching up. “This isn’t really my… um… I’m not a werewolf.”

Talia smiled at him in amusement. “I know that you are familiar with werewolf courting and mating.”

At the query in Talia’s voice, Stiles couldn’t help nodding, albeit rubbing his face to try and hide his blushing face.

Stiles might have been an incredibly awkward intellectual when he was young, but even he was aware of the… romantic notions of courting and – ahem – mating. He had watched the courting rituals of all manners of species and races back at his village, especially since his Father and Mother had to bless a fair few of them as their Sheriff and then-Druid.

“Erm, um, yes? Sort of? Maybe? A little?”

Talia nodded. “I am certain however that you are still in the dark about the intricacies of the tradition, especially the secrets that are privy to only the Wolves and…” Her lips curled up minutely, but Stiles caught it. “…the Mates of our species.”

Stiles had spent his years studying the cultures, traditions and history of almost every supernatural race out there, but every race had secrets and traditions that those not of their kind could only hope to learn. He was already luckier than most. Derek and his family were a wealth of information and were more than willing to tell him things that couldn’t be found in even the most comprehensive of books or couldn’t be taught by even the most skilled teachers. But he knew there was still certain information they were holding back.

Stiles bit his thumbnail in thought, before asking, “Is Matthew courting someone again? Is that what this is about?” His eyes widened. “Is Cameron? Or…” He ignored the sinking feeling in his stomach.

“…Is Derek?”

Talia smiled calmly. It was her Queen smile; the Hales all had such Royal secretive smiles. “In response to your very first question, the reason I am giving you this book is because it is meant to help you.”

Stiles looked at her in confusion. “Er, well… thank you. Is this for the Royal Archives? Oh, but you said it’s for me, so… well, this will be really good learning material so thank you for… the… honor…”

Talia raised an eyebrow at him and no, no, no, she did not earn the right to look at him like he was the one acting ridiculous. He did not deserve the trademark Hale deadpan look this time.

“I am well aware that you are not a werewolf, my darling, but I thought this would be the best reading material for you to use as reference. After all, how would you know how to act during a courting ritual if you do not study it?”

“But I don’t... I’m not…” Stiles narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you setting me up with someone?”

Talia rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t be obtuse, my darling. Why would I set you up with someone –”

“Oh, well, that’s good, because–”

“–when I have a son who is already perfectly enamored with you?”

Stiles thought that it was quite an impressive feat of grace that he managed to almost faceplant on the table in shock when he was  _sitting down_  on a perfectly sturdy chair. He sat up, back straight, eyes wide and gaping at the woman.

“W-W-What? I… who… you… Nobody is ena-enamored with me! That’s ridicu–”

“Stiles.”

Stiles shut up.

Talia leaned forward and placed a hand on his arm. She gave him her nice, comforting Talia smile, a real one.

Stiles burst. “Derek is not in love with me!”

Talia scoffed. “I am his mother. Of course I know who he has eyes for. Besides, I can see it… and smell it.” She laughed softly. “Forgive me for being nosy, but his affection for you smells a lot like wild flowers and the smell of rain. It’s very comforting.” She gave him a gentle smile. “And while your Fae skin hides the smell of your emotions, Stiles, it does not hide your heart.”

Talia’s smile was gentle. “Your heart beats for him, literally.”

Stiles flushed so deeply that he could feel his cheeks and the back of his neck warming up and he was surprised he didn't combust. He had long since stopped hiding his heartbeat whenever he wore his Fae skin. Limiting his scent was enough. The first few times he had tried, Derek’s wolf had not taken it well at hearing the ‘false beats’ of his hidden heart that Stiles decided to stop it altogether for him.

“I notice you didn’t deny not having any affections for my son.” She grinned wryly. “I know you care about him. Everyone knows it.”

Stiles groaned, rubbing his face with a hand. He knew he wasn’t subtle, had never been good at subtlety, but this was just horrifying. His free hand gripped the book tightly.

“So that was why…” He groaned. “CC has been calling me the best, but she never said what. The terrible trio asked me about my romantic life and relationships, and Val and Nate keep asking me what I think about Derek and…”

It was like a flash of realization.

He gaped at Talia. “Talia, I… Derek’s not going to… to court me… werewolf court me, is he?”

Talia just smiled and leaned over to press a hand to his warm cheek.

“The Wolf Moon is in a week, my darling. You have a lot to read about.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was one of the most important rules in the courting ritual of any race: the right to decline.
> 
> Stiles jolted in his seat, because now that his Father mentioned it, he was suddenly reminded of the fact that he never even thought of looking at that section in the book.
> 
> John didn’t have to ask, but he looked like he knew what Stiles was thinking. Still, he said: “You have all the right in the world to say no, son. Even to Derek.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a while to get through this. The original version was so clunky that I ended up having to rewrite some parts. Please enjoy and see the end notes for a short announcement.

When Stiles graduated from the Academy, one of his biggest worries was leaving his Father behind. Beacon Hills was relatively close by, just a few hours away on horseback, but he was still apprehensive about his Father having to live by himself with no one to look after him. Thank Goddess the entire town was quite keen on taking care of their Sheriff, including the many supernatural creatures that called the town home.

Stiles knew about the witches’ coven on Fifth Street that cooked him healthy meals every once in a while, and the pixies who visited the Sheriff at night and watched over him as he slept. Most of all, Stiles was comforted by the presence of Deputy Jordan Parrish, who seemed to bend over backwards to aid his Father.

(Stiles had a sneaky suspicion there was something going on there, but both men were quite adamant that there was none.)

Anyway, both Stilinskis adjusted fairly well to their separation, though his Father’s sense of humor had grown decidedly unamusing over the years.

Case in point: After Stiles went home to see his Father, he kind of wished he hadn’t because the first thing the man said when he opened the door to see Stiles at his doorstep was:

“I assume your talk with the Queen went well?”

Stiles could only gape, looking at his old man in disbelief.

Apparently for all werewolf courting traditions were incredibly private and secretive, Talia and Desmond felt it better to reassure John about Derek’s intentions, especially since Derek had yet to make a formal declaration to him. Family courting was the fourth – third? fifth? – step in the courting. (Stiles still couldn’t believe half the stuff he had scanned through so far in that damn book.)

And anyway, Stiles probably shouldn’t even be surprised that his Father and Derek’s parents were conspiring behind his back. They had done it before, back when the Hales were trying to convince Stiles to accept his position in the Royal Council of Emissaries.

“Couldn’t you have warned me about this beforehand? Sent a letter by raven? Came to me yourself? Something?” Stiles asked, slumping on a seat at their sitting room with a resigned sigh.

John was puttering around the kitchen and had his back to his son, but Stiles could picture him rolling his eyes. What was up with people reacting that way around him?

“And how do you suppose I should have explained this? Son, I just want to let you know that His and Her Majesty sent me a letter to inform me that their son was planning to propo–”

Stiles made a gurgling sound at that.

“–express his intentions towards you?” John amended with a snort, placing a cup of warm tea in front of him. “That would have gone so well.”

“But courting? Werewolf courting? Dad, this is one of the most private, most sacred, most celebrated werewolf traditions ever. This is… this is a big deal!”

John shrugged. “…It sounds pretty romantic?”

“Dad!”

John raised his hands in defeat. “Okay, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to act so cavalier about this, but you did get your sense of humor and avoidance issues from your old man. And no Father is ever really comfortable talking about his son’s romantic prospects… even more when that prospect happens to be a Royal Prince.”

John took a deep breath, leaning over to pat Stiles’ arm. “Anyway, son, what are you panicking about exactly? That you’re probably the only one who doesn’t know that Derek cares about you? Or that Derek chose a sacred tradition to show you _how much_ he cares about you?”

There were so many things about what his Father said that needed to be addressed, but Stiles didn’t know where to start. He floundered for words for whole minutes, sputtering, hemming and hawing.

His Father’s voice was soft and gentle as he said, “One of the first things I asked Talia and Desmond about this whole thing was about you saying no.”

It was one of the most important rules in the courting ritual of any race: the right to decline.

Stiles jolted in his seat, because now that his Father mentioned it, he was suddenly reminded of the fact that he never even thought of looking at that section in the book.

John didn’t have to ask, but he looked like he knew what Stiles was thinking. Still, he said: “You have all the right in the world to say no, son. Even to Derek.”

 

 

 

 

Stiles and the sunshine that was Scott McCall were childhood friends.

They grew up practically attached at the hip and the only time they drifted apart was when Stiles chose to study magic while Scott decided to become a doctor for animals. They were still closer than close and their paths became even more tightly knit when, after having grown up around Stiles’ Spark, Scott’s capability for magic was triggered.

Scott found himself having the ability to understand animals, and now worked for a wildlife sanctuary several towns away that specialized in taking care of creatures both supernatural and not. It meant Scott was incredibly busy.

 That was why two days after Stiles’ conversation with his Father, he was surprised when he opened the door at his room above the Spitfire Inn to see Scott’s smiling face.

 Stiles gaped at him, while Scott looked pleased at having surprised him.

 Your Father sent me a letter by raven on what was going on and told me that you might need some emotional support so…”He splayed his fingers wide and grinned. “Ta-da!”

 Stiles almost cried. “Scotty…”

 Scott’s grin grew. “I’ve been riding for half a day to get here quickly so you better–”

 Stiles jumped on his best friend, squeezing him hard. “I love you.”

 Scott chuckled, hugging him back just as hard. There were no halfway hugs in this friendship. It was all or nothing.

 …But then Scott had to ruin it.

“Are you sure you should be telling me that though? Maybe you should reserve those special words for Der–”

Stiles zapped Scott with his Spark, making him yelp.

 

 

 

 

After a quick nap for Scott and a trip to the market for Stiles, Stiles herded his best friend to his little kitchen and made them supper. He had taken down his Fae skin when he got home from the Den so he was glad Scott wasn’t a werewolf and couldn’t scent his conflicting emotions. Then again, Scott knew him well enough to know how he was feeling without the need for such supernatural capabilities.

As he cooked, Stiles glanced intermittently at Scott, who was reading the werewolf courting book. To share the book with Scott was a boon Talia granted him, knowing full well that Stiles would need emotional support from someone who was not a werewolf, but still family.

(His Father was also allowed, but Stiles knew better than to have him be aware of his son’s romantic life. And Goddess knows what would happen should he stumble upon the chapters on mating.)

Scott had always been expressive and Stiles watched a myriad of emotions cross his face: confusion, surprise, amusement, fascination, and fear (though that one was because he peeked at the latter chapters and ended up on the rather graphic chapters on mating).

“So… werewolf courting,” Scott drawled, looking up from the book.

Stiles could only nod. “Werewolf courting.”

Scott looked down at the book, and then back up at Stiles. “Court…ing…”

Stiles huffed. “Yes, Scott. Courting. Derek’s going to court me. Ugh.” He groaned and ran his hands through his hair. “This is insane! This is… This is…”

“Romantic…?” Scott’s nose scrunched up adorably.

“Dad said the same thing.” Stiles snorted, placing a large plate of roasted potatoes, pork and mixed vegetables in front of Scott. He sat down with his own plate.

They were kind of right though. It really was romantic.

Stiles had done some research on it and it seemed that Talia understated the relevance of this tradition for werewolves.

A traditional courting was a very big deal, even more so for a member of the Royal Family. In fact, just based on what Stiles had read so far, the courting ritual of other races seemed like children frolicking in the playground compared to how werewolves do it.

(Or maybe he was just biased.)

Stiles was well aware of how monogamous werewolves were. Some of them might have numerous dalliances or partners throughout their lives, but werewolves were second to none when it came to lifelong commitment and devotion. Most of them truly and fully loved only one person their whole lives. That was why they took courting so seriously, because to court someone equated to a werewolf having found his or her Mate, Soulmate, One and, as the book stated in pretty overwhelming words:  _someone who will become their whole world._

It was what happened with Mattie, when his wife Caroline died giving birth to CC. Stiles had never seen him so devastated and heartbroken. It was the first time he’d seen a wolf almost go feral with the loss of his anchor and his Mate. In hindsight, he remembered Derek mentioning that having a daughter was the only reason his older brother hadn’t gone completely off the bend, and now understood just what he meant.

Derek’s uncle, Peter Hale, the eternal bachelor of the family, was also an example. Stiles didn’t see him often, what with the man preferring to travel than rule, but he occasionally received a letter or trinket sent by raven or messenger. The man had a reputation for having had relations with dozens, near a hundred really, people and had never expressed the desire to settle down. In hindsight, Stiles remembered Talia saying that it was because Peter had never found his Mate and desperately wanted to.

Courting took a different approach to relationships. It was incredibly personal and emotional. It was opening oneself fully to another person, getting to know them completely, no holds barred – a test of dedication, endurance and unerring loyalty.

Stiles had read passages and journals over the years on just how seriously werewolves took it; how the shame of a failed courtship followed families all their lives and how some went feral over it and spiraled into depression. A false courtship or one carelessly or maliciously initiated was also greatly discouraged and it was within the rights of the jilted party or the werewolf community to sanction death upon those who would sully one of their greatest traditions.

The upside was finding out about how celebrated a successful courting was, how it led to a happy and dedicated union, stronger alliances between kingdoms, and a life full of love, joy and passion to the blessed couples.

It was… It was…

“I get why you’re freaking out,” Scott said softly, interrupting Stiles’ musings. “I mean, it’s… quite intense.”

“Yeah,” Stiles said softly, taking a bite of his meal. As he chewed, his temper slowly flared, hand white-knuckled around his fork.

“Like, damn, Scotty. I just… I want to strangle Derek for this! I couldn’t even find the man after Talia dropped the bomb on me! Like he was avoiding me! And what’s more, whenever I’d ask Laura, Cam, none of them would tell me where he is! The bastard didn’t even have the courtesy of trying to explain this whole courting to me! What the hell is up with that?”

Scott looked sympathetic. He stroked the book’s pages, in thought. “Maybe he wanted you to think about it?” he asked. “I mean, the book did say the first step is asking the, er, Intended for permission to court them. Even I know Derek’s the direct type of guy. You’re lucky he doesn’t spring this at your face on the day of the Wolf Moon. Maybe this is the Hale family’s way of giving you a heads up?”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Stiles protested, even though it did.

Scott shrugged.  “Besides, it’s not like he’s never implied that he had feelings for you…”

“No, Scotty. He hasn’t,” Stiles snapped. “If I actually knew what’s going on, I wouldn’t be this… this mad.”

“You’re not mad. You’re just caught off guard,” Scott pointed out. “You’re the smartest guy I know, but this time you’re going in blind. That’s why you think you’re mad.”

It usually amazed Stiles just how well Scott knew him, but it now it was pissing him off a bit.

“But it’s still your choice though, brother. I mean…” Scott flipped a few pages and then read a passage Stiles had already memorized by heart.

_“At any point, the Intended is allowed to formally end the courtship, and at no point will anyone pressure and persuade the Intended to change his or her mind. There is no shame in halting the courtship, because greater is the shame and sadness of a false relationship and one built on intimidation and force.”_

“You can always choose to decline the courtship,” Scott said. “Or you can choose to delay in giving an answer or back out any time you want. There are a lot of options for you to choose from.”

“But Derek can’t,” Stiles said, tapping the book with a finger. _“This is not a frivolous affair one can enter lightly. Thus, the Wolf must see the courtship through until the end, for it is their own choice that will have these events come to pass, and they must accept what could be their desired fate or their bitter regret…_ It might sound poetic, Scott, but all it means is that Derek has to go through with this no matter what.”

“What makes you think he’ll even want to back out?” Scott asked, brows furrowing and actually looking surprised. “He and his family are the ones initiating all this. _He_ is the one who’s going to ask you.”

“Scott, he’s…” Stiles waved a hand. “He’s Derek. We’ve been friends for so long and he can’t possibly–”

“Be in love with you?” Scott asked, tilting his head to the side. “Brother, you’re the only one who doesn’t see it, how much Derek feels for you.” When Stiles tried to protest, he rolled his eyes. “The first time you introduced us to one another, even I could see how fond of you that man is underneath all your bickering.”

Stiles’ Father said the same thing, and if Scott noticed it… well, he was admittedly not the most observant of people.

But that couldn’t be true.

“He is?” Stiles asked, feeling so small.

Scott’s eyes narrowed at him and reached over to poke Stiles hard right at the middle of his forehead.

“Ow! Hey!” Stiles rubbed the sore spot.

Scott shook his head. “No. I’m not going to entertain your pessimistic thoughts. You’re my brother and my best friend, one of the best men I know, and the youngest Emissary to the King. You are loyal and smart and brave. Derek wouldn’t court you if he didn’t see all that… and more.”

Scott was resolute.

Stiles tried really hard to believe him.

 

 

 

 

While Stiles would have wanted to spend the days hiding at the Spitfire Inn, a new day dawned and Stiles couldn’t very well abandon his duties at the Den.

“Another day…” Stiles muttered to himself as he headed towards the Royal abode.

The Royal Family’s official residence and office, or more known as the Den, was a thing of beauty. It was steeped in history and magic and was the home of all the previous Hale rulers of their beloved nation.

Stiles knew almost every inch of the palace, or at least the places where he was allowed to roam, and he was among the very few allowed access to a lot of the private quarters and rooms.

What Stiles probably loved the most about the Den – aside from the Hales and the fact that this was also his second home – was that it backed up right against the forest. A majority of the grounds was open to the public, but a large part of it was cordoned off for the private use of the Royal Family and the Emissaries. Stiles even had his own greenhouse where he grew various herbs, plants and flowers. All the Emissaries had one, though Stiles’ small one was situated closest to the Hale family’s large and private greenhouse and Pavilion.

Later that afternoon, Stiles decided to seek solace in said greenhouse of his. For all Scott had tried to comfort him about the matter, Stiles couldn’t leave things as they were. He needed answers. The problem was that he didn’t know who to ask or how to.

In the end, his answer found him.

“A lovely day, is it not?”

Stiles jumped in surprise, almost sending the potted plant he was scrutinizing flying through the air. He scrambled to stand and bowed low to his King.

“Your Majesty, I apologize. I didn’t see you,” he stammered.

Desmond chuckled. “No apologies needed, my boy. This is your garden. I should be the one asking permission to be here.”

Stiles shook his head vehemently. “You are welcome here anytime you wish, my King.”

Desmond looked regal as ever, dressed in a black fitted waistcoat, white shirt, black trousers, and a long, luscious red robe that skimmed the tops of his bare feet. His long dark hair was tied back and his eyes were kind, serene, and striking as ever in Alpha red. He rubbed his beard as he approached.

For all Stiles was close to the Hales, he still kept a sense of formality in his relationship with Desmond. He would always be first and foremost Stiles’ Alpha and King, and he still needed to act with decorum despite the fact that he had seen the man’s children at their worst, best, silliest, and most blackmail-worthy, and had many a time been subjected to his wife’s many schemes.

Desmond joined Stiles as he toured his little garden, watered the plants, checked their leaves and blooms, and touched them one by one to share his Spark and help them bloom. His love for gardening was something he got from Claudia, while he was blessed with a green thumb thanks to the Elves and Faes that his grandmother Edyta had befriended. The plants also helped with making effective potions, aiding in spells, and uplifting Stiles’ mood and thoughts.

In fact, Stiles found himself calmer than he had ever been since Talia handed him _that book_.

Stiles waved a hand at the wooden bench placed at the very center of his garden, inviting his Alpha to rest. Desmond did so and patted the seat beside him for Stiles.

Desmond spoke softly, “I know my family can be somewhat overbearing, but I’m glad to see that recent events haven’t taken their toll on you, my boy.”

Stiles didn’t have to wonder what this was about.

“Your Majesty, I’ve known your family for years now.” He gave him a small smile. “No offense, but overbearing is putting it _very_ mildly.”

Desmond chuckled. “And I’m glad to see your sense of humor remains intact considering the circumstances.”

“The circumstances…” Stiles bit his lip, good mood lowering a little.

Desmond turned to him, gaze assessing. His and Talia’s eyes were permanently Alpha red, representative of their status as the Alpha King and Queen. It was a color Stiles had long since learned to take comfort from.

“How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” Stiles answered, mostly out of reflex. He paused, then deflated. “Well, not fine _fine_ , but… dealing with it.”

“I can guess that my family was most likely not that forthcoming with information.” Desmond rubbed his beard, full and thick and peppered with grey and white. “Is there anything I can do to help you feel more at ease?”

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck. “The book you and Queen Talia lent me really helped, though I have to admit that the others have remained vague about some vital things…” He drifted off.

They lapsed into silence for a moment, Desmond waiting patiently while Stiles tried to figure out what he really wanted to know about werewolf courting.

The problem wasn’t the tradition itself. The book was more than helpful regarding the specifics, and it was all at the same time explicitly detailed, endlessly enlightening, ridiculously romantic, and admittedly one of the scariest, most intimidating, and most beautiful books Stiles had ever read.

However, Stiles’ questions and doubts were about more than just that. They were about Derek… and himself.

“I never… It’s just… I didn’t expect…” Stiles stammered. He huffed in frustration at his awkward tongue. He didn’t quite know how to phrase his own feelings, and how would he? _‘I didn’t know Derek was in love with me’?_ Or _‘I don’t know how I feel about being courted by Derek’?_

Desmond looked out over the garden, giving Stiles a bit of privacy to deal with his feelings. His voice was gentle as he spoke.

“A courting is simply that, my dear boy – a way to show one’s affections and intentions. It is a way to test the waters, if you will. It does not always lead to anything permanent. For all you have read and heard about marriage and children and forever, nobody but the people involved will decide on the course of their relationship. If you wish to remain friends, to marry, to partake in a lengthier courtship, anything and everything you want, all that is acceptable.”

“I understand that. I do,” Stiles said earnestly. “But for all I honor your tradition…” He plucked the fabric of his trousers. “I would have gladly spent more time with Derek if he wanted, taken a walk, taken a trip together, talked about whatever comes to mind… Something like this seems…too much too soon.” He ducked his head, embarrassed at his vulnerability and his weakness.

Desmond hummed under his breath, taking time to think on it a little before replying. “I can’t presume to know my son’s thoughts and intentions, even though I have loved and known him all his life. But if I may be free to offer my thoughts on the matter…”

Stiles nodded. He’d take any help he could get.

“I presume one of the reasons he chose to court you is because he knew you’d love to learn all about it from an academic standpoint.” Desmond smiled knowingly. “My family agrees with that assessment. Don’t think that we don’t know you very well, Stiles.”

Stiles blushed. That was true. He was nothing if not an academic at heart with all the books he’d read and written, all the experiments he’d tried, and the intellectuals he’d talk to. From the standpoint of an academician, he would definitely grab the opportunity to try out this very secretive and private ritual.

Desmond’s face turned more somber. “And second, if I may be frank, I feel as if Derek wants to show you his affections in a way that he hoped would never cast doubt on how deeply he cares for you.”

Stiles knew he was practically flushing from head to toe at those words. This was surreal. This was crazy… in a _good_ way, but…

Desmond continued. “It’s probably quite surprising for you to have someone you’ve known for so long suddenly reveal so much of his feelings for you. Anyone would be overwhelmed.”He rubbed his beard. “My wife and children tried to ease you into it, to let you know before Derek most likely springs it on you. But I know that just about every member of my family is as delicate as a punch in the face.”

Stiles couldn’t help laughing at that last part. That was true, and it looked like Scott was right about the Hales making a move to tell Stiles first before Derek did.

“I know Derek isn’t outwardly expressive, Your Majesty, but he has always been passionate about what he wants, how he feels, what he thinks.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I feel as if I’m in way over my head, but Derek… choosing this is just like what you’d expect from him, you know?”

Stiles and Derek butted heads so much when they first met. They were both passionate, stubborn and never backed down. Stiles had seen just how brave and steadfast Derek was. It was exactly like him to choose this kind of commitment to courting. It just really surprised Stiles that _he_ was one of the many things Derek was passionate about.

And maybe that was the scariest of all.

Desmond placed a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, his smile soft and calm.

“Do you care about Derek?”

“I do.”

Stiles had had feelings for Derek for years, but he wasn’t completely _in love_ with him… yet – not that falling for him seemed all too difficult.

“And do you trust him?”

Stiles almost laughed, not even answering that question. He looked his King in the eye.

Did he even have to ask?

Desmond squeezed his shoulder. “Then trust him in his own intentions, and trust that he will understand you and whatever you so choose.”

Stiles took a deep breath.

There it was; the push he needed.

“Yes. Okay. I will.”

 

 

 

 

Several days later, it was the Wolf Moon and the entire castle was a flurry of activity. Full moon runs were a familiar monthly occurrence, but the Wolf Moon which came once a year was a time for celebration. It was the one time the Royal Family, instead of having their own private run, joined the townspeople, visitors, and other supernatural and magical beings.

It was an event planned down to the last detail, what with the Royal Family on the run and security tight and ironclad around the Den where the predominantly human and non-were staff members remained.

(The rest of the forest and the Royal Family were guarded quite mildly in comparison. Someone would have to be insane to attack doubly strong werecreatures prowling the woods on a night like tonight, all bloodthirsty and near-feral with moon lust.)

There were seven Royal Emissaries in all, and every few months they rotated stations on who would man the Den and who would guard the ancient, magical Nemeton in the forest. Most of them honestly preferred being left at the Den, since it allowed them easy access to the kitchens where the cooks prepared a gigantic feast for the ravenous crowd. Or maybe that was just Stiles.

This month, Stiles was supposed to be stationed at the forest. However, he wasn’t all too surprised when he found himself being tracked down by Senior Emissary Lady Cassandra Perry and told to stay at the Den. He wouldn’t even be surprised if she knew that tonight was _the_ night; that she probably knew _everything_ going on with him and the Hales.

“I have a feeling we’re going to have quite an eventful evening, don’t you?” Lady Cass said softly as they walked down the hall.

Stiles nodded, a bit lost in thought. “Eventful is certainly the word for it.”

The eldest of the seven Royal Emissaries, Cassandra Perry was unearthly beautiful and deceptively youthful-looking thanks to merpeople’s blood in her veins, an endangered race known for its incredible beauty and long lives. Merpeople were not skilled in magic, but were rather born _from_ it, folklore claiming that the Nine Sisters of the Sea and the breath of Mother Earth herself willed them to life. Lady Cass radiated that kind of ancient magic, everything from her floor-length, blue-hued hair, her dark eyes, the musical lilt to her voice, and the way she, as well as everything on her person, moved as if on water. Even after years of knowing her, there were times Stiles couldn’t tear his eyes from the way she just _floated_.

She was dressed similar to him that night, in all black with lightweight chest armor and the dark green cloak all Royal Emissaries wore, emblazoned with the Hale triskele and the Nemeton at the back.

“Have a wonderful evening, milady,” Stiles said, bowing his head to her. They reached the archway leading out to the palace grounds, torches lining a path headed from the doorway toward the forest.

“And you as well, my Lord,” Lady Cass said softly. “You know what they say – the most magical things tend to happen during a full moon, more so the Wolf Moon.” She squeezed his shoulder with a smile before walking, or rather floating, away.

Stiles watched her go and the curl of anticipation he had been feeling in his gut since he woke up that morning seemed to flare even stronger.

He had no time for such thoughts though. He squared his shoulders and walked back inside to continue his rounds, check security around the Den, and meet with the other Emissaries.

As with any night, duties took precedence.

 

 

 

 

Most of the doors and windows in the Den were thrown open, letting in the cool evening breeze, and there was an aura of magic and electricity in the air that even those with lesser senses could smell and sense. There was also laughter and music echoing through the halls, everybody in good spirits and happy hearts. The moon was already fat and full in the night sky when the occupants of the Den and neighboring villages and towns heard the powerful howls of a werewolf pack. A loud cheer from the Den greeted the roar and the celebration was quickly underway.

Stiles kept himself busy, monitoring the work of his apprentices and regularly checking in with the other Emissaries, finishing some paperwork, playing with the energetic and adorable pack children – only those aged fifteen and above were allowed to join the run, the others still too young and too little to bring along; with the exception of Princess CC – and sneaking in a bite or two of the treats the cooks offered him.

But with every move and every step, and with every second and every hour that passed, a sense of awareness thrummed through Stiles on the importance of tonight. It had his Spark simmering impatiently under his skin.

Stiles was taking a stroll of the palace grounds when he felt a powerful presence approach.

He felt a tug inside him, his Spark calling out to his visitor. He wasn’t afraid though.

It was time.

“Enjoying the full moon, my Prince?” he asked softly, turning around, and the shiver that ran down his spine was more because of the creature in front of him than the crisp, cool evening air.

Derek in his wolf form was a sight to behold. He had pitch black fur, as did all the Hales, and a large head with a jaw wide and strong enough to deal extensive damage to any opponent. A low growl was emanating from his broad chest, his teeth were bared, and his large paws flexed restlessly against the ground. His eyes were Beta Gold and were an odd mixture of feral and humane.

His form was strong, his fur luscious, his teeth sharp, and his claws deadly. He was dangerous, a creature of the night.

To Stiles, he was beautiful.

Wolf-Derek moved a few paces forward until Stiles could see his whole form covered by the light of Mother Moon. Behind him, Stiles could see the familiar mix of Alpha Red and Beta Gold eyes shining from the shadows of the forest.

He turned back to Derek and watched as he transformed in front of his eyes, from his wolf form to the half-wolf – with his heavy brow, the longer hair along his cheeks and jaws, the sharp claws, and his strong body that was reminiscent of both the man and the wolf.

Stiles’ mind, the overly analytical part of it, couldn’t help but jump toward the passages in the tome he had read.

_Showing off all of the werewolf’s forms to their Intended… an intimate display of trust…hiding nothing… then speaking the courting words…_

Then Derek transformed from half-wolf to the man, his fur, brow, claws and wolf features all receding, until finally…

Derek was standing in front of him, bare and beautiful and eyes turning back to their beautiful green-gold-black, gentle and fond as he gazed at Stiles. His face was composed and serene, but it was his Prince look. Underneath it, Stiles could easily see his tells, showing how nervous and agitated he really felt.

Stiles couldn’t help the smile on his face, trying to set his werewolf… his suitor, his Wolf at ease. At the back of his mind, he noticed that the other wolves stepped closer, the members of the Hale family bearing witness to the occasion.

_…the acceptance of the courting in the eyes of the Mother Moon and her Wolves._

But because Stiles was Stiles, ever curious and odd and occasionally without a filter for his words, he broke what might have been, should have been, a sacred silence.

“It’s been a while, a few days since we’ve seen each other,” Stiles said. “I’ve been looking for you and… You haven’t been avoiding me, have you? I mean, I know you have been, but I find that counterproductive considering you’re… me… you know.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

He glanced at Derek, but he only looked fond, not annoyed, and Stiles’ shoulders relaxed a fraction, feeling a little more at ease.

“I wasn’t,” Derek said, shaking his head. “Not quite. I was giving you space… to prepare… for tonight.” He waved a hand awkwardly and Stiles almost laughed.

Stiles also couldn’t help snorting. “Derek, we’ve known each other for years. When have I ever needed space?”

‘ _From you’_ hung in the air over their heads.

Derek shrugged, looking embarrassed. “I thought you needed time to think about things. I heard Mother and the others told you… I knew it caught you off guard.”

Stiles couldn’t deny that, but…

“It was a good kind of surprise,” he said softly.

For all Stiles tried to do some thinking the past few days, having Derek _here_ made the decision all the clearer actually, all the easier to make.

Stiles was surprised, yes, but Stiles was also _ridiculously happy_.

Derek couldn’t smell his emotions thanks to his Fae skin, but he was sure Derek could hear his heartbeat. He wasn’t going to lie.

Stiles gave him a wry grin. “Aren’t we lucky then, that I am not against the whole thing?”

There was a hopeful look in Derek’s eyes. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Since when have _you_ ever forced _me_ into anything? Seriously,” he muttered. He looked at Derek. “But… if you are the one who is unsure–”

“I’ve never been sure of anything in my life.”Derek’s reply was immediate, and it somehow took Stiles’ breath away.

Stiles rubbed his mouth, trying to hide his too-wide grin. “Then I’m not planning on saying no, Derek.”

At those words, it was as if the moonlight suddenly grew brighter and the winds and the woods quieted, as if he and Derek were suddenly in their own private little world, just the two of them.

“Mieczyslaw 'Stiles' Stilinski…” Derek paused and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes briefly and opened them to the bright gold eyes of a Beta werewolf.

“Do you accept my intention to court you?”

As a Spark, Stiles knew better than anyone about how powerful words were, how magic affected a binding commitment, and here he was, saying such powerful words.

Stiles felt a frisson of magic skitter down his spine; the courting words heavy with magic, promises and _possibilities_.

It wasn’t like being courted by Derek was a hardship. Derek was a handsome man and an even more powerful werewolf. He was Royalty as well, but he was also smart and kind-hearted and the most annoying, stubborn, beautiful man Stiles had ever met.

Derek – his dear friend, his Prince, his Wolf.

Only time would tell if these were the right words to the right person at the right time, but for this moment, there was only one answer to Derek’s question.

“I do.”

The Hale wolves howled, long and loud. Stiles laughed, feeling his Spark sing. Derek didn’t howl, was far too busy looking at Stiles.

Stiles had seen Derek smile before, but this was different. This was _everything_. His smile was wide and his eyes shone brightly and he looked so pleased and excited that Stiles couldn’t help sharing the feeling.

If Stiles could see that smile, could put that smile on Derek’s face for the rest of his life, he would be perfectly content.

When he took Derek’s hand in his, he realized he might just have a chance to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I get any pitchforks waved at me or goats thrown my way, here’s the thing: I’m pretty torn between continuing this and not, about 60-40, to be honest. If I continue this, I’m gonna have to sift through the 40+ pages of notes I’ve had since 2015 before I can even get anywhere, much less create an outline for this. God knows how long that’s going to take.
> 
> While I give the matter some thought ~~and let you all convince me,~~ let this be marked complete and end somewhere open but definitive so that we aren't all left hanging. Feel free to subscribe or check back here if you want to see any possible future installments.
> 
> Thank you and any kudos and comments will be much appreciated.
> 
> \--
> 
>  **UPDATE (11/5/2018):** I have decided to write a continuation to this story, so yey! *cue confetti and cheers* I am still deciding on the length, because I suddenly had a burst of inspiration that cannot be contained that keeps making the plot bigger and bigger, but target date of posting is February or March 2019. Please look on me kindly. Thank you.


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